My Name

My tap teacher calls me Irene.

She knows me from up on the screen.

When she gets my name wrong

It’s like I don’t belong;

Maybe some of you know what I mean.

 

For if you are possessed of a name

Which, to others, sounds somewhat the same

As your own, but it’s not

Then what choice have you got

But keep quiet or put them to shame.

 

What I do will depend on my mood –

Suck it up and continue to brood

Or point out the mistake,

Which is good for my sake,

But may come off to others as rude.

 

Still, a name tells the world who you are

And excuses go only so far.

If it’s me that you mean

To address, it’s ILENE

And to call me Irene is bizarre.